Come What May
by Colorain
Summary: He knew he would never love another, not as he loved Satine. **Movie spoiler**


"Come What May"

By Colorain

All right, I don't own Christian or Satine or anybody. I'm not making money off this, but you can sue me. Won't you, please? I never spend my money anyway.

It had been so long, so very long. Christian lay quietly in his bed, still but not yet asleep. It had become hard for him to sleep-that one night had changed his life forever. He still remembered Satine whispering, "I love you,", and dying in his arms. Her voice remained with him after all this time, even after the years and memory had blurred her lovely face.

He knew he would never love another, not as he loved Satine. There had been other girls-he was handsome and talented and he knew some of them slept with him on their desperate attempts to make it to the top. He never missed them after they left, even the ones that said they loved him. They were hollow words. They did not have meaning, not anymore. Love, something Christian had believed in so whole-heartedly, had died. Truth remained. Satine was dead-that was truth. He had gained moderate success as a poet. That was truth. He had grown old, alone and unhappy-again, truth.

Beauty-it became lost on Christian. He found himself comparing things to Satine. She was his ideal. Satine had paler skin, the color of a fresh blanket of cold snow. Satine had bluer eyes, the color deep as the ocean, dark as the nighttime sky. Satine had redder hair, a fire that burned so brightly-so brightly it had burnt out too quickly.

Freedom was something he still appreciated. No matter how hard life had been-and it had been hard-he was still free. Even though he found it difficult to live sometimes, he was free. His heart beat painfully every second of his life-that part of him was not free. Why should his heart beat when Satine's had been forever silenced? Sometimes he cried that out in the night, sobbing and beating the bed he slept in. His heart was in shackles, forever bound-a slave to love.

Out of Christian's four ideals, two remained with him in his old age. Truth and freedom. Another truth had not escaped him: he was dying. Death was slow with Christian. It toyed with him. Though he longed so desperately to finally give up, to join Satine in eternity, Death would not let him go. Often Christian had considered ending his own life, but every time he stopped before he administered the fatal injury. Perhaps part of him was a coward-he had not taken Satine away and saved them both. Perhaps part of him was a hero-he knew that Satine would have wanted him to live. She knew his dream-perhaps had she lived, she would have put his dream above all other things. Her dream, of being a famous actress, of course, died.

Christian decided it was time to stop contemplating and get some rest. He knew tonight was the night he died. It wasn't a wish-he wasn't determined to die-he just knew his body had spent its time on the earth. His eyes shut themselves, wrinkled lids closing over ever-bright eyes. As he drifted off into his dreams one last time, the world beneath his memory spun around him, colors and lights merging into comet-tails manifestations of emotions. The elephant of the Moulin Rouge loomed before him in all its vibrancy, no longer a forgotten and faded emblem of his past. He silently made his way up the stairs-had he really only been there so few times? It seemed he could navigate them from memory.

He raised his hand to knock on the door; his hand quivered and he lowered it. There was no turning back if he went into Satine's room. It was the threshold between two worlds: that of the living and that of the dead. His ears pricking slightly, he heard the faint noise of Satine singing from within. Even muffled, she sounded beautiful.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Christian knocked on the door quietly. For a moment, he thought Satine had not heard him-indeed, had not wanted him-and started to turn back.

The door opened slowly behind him. Satine stood in the doorway, amazing and radiant as he had ever remembered her. She smiled warmly, and purred, "Come in. I've been expecting you."

That was all Christian needed to hear. He dashed into her room and swept Satine into his arms. He had not held her for untold decades, and it did not matter to him that his body was dead. His spirit was alive, wondrously alive, along with Satine, and he was happy. Happiness and love were all that mattered.


End file.
